


Five Songs Stella Bonasera Might Listen To

by afteriwake



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, CSI: Miami, CSI: NY, NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:53:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five songs Stella might associate with five different men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Songs Stella Bonasera Might Listen To

  
**Nick Stokes**

_I've got a hunger  
Twisting my stomach into knots  
That my tongue was tied off_

_My brain's repeating  
"If you've got an impulse let it out"  
But they never make it past my mouth._   
Death Cab For Cutie, "The Sound of Settling"   


Oh, she'd blown it. Didn't matter that she could easily blame distance (because New York to Las Vegas is a bit far away), or the age difference (not that it was much of one, but enough to make her pause) or the fact that her life was so different than his in a lot of ways...and so similar that it scared the hell out of her.

She was going to blame the last part. She was scared. She was scared because Nick Stokes was a good guy. And it wasn't an insult; any word that basically meant good applied to him, every last one. And every day that she'd walked through New York City since she met him, she'd wondered what he was doing, whether he was at a scene or relaxing at home. Whether he was laughing with his friends or focusing on evidence.

Whether he was thinking of her. Oh, God, when _that_ thought crossed her head, she wanted to scream. She wanted to hop on a flight to Vegas, to go see him, to explain what had happened, to ask him if he hated her for leaving his apartment the last night she was with him in Vegas, the first and only time they'd slept together without saying a word and slinking back to New York.

She'd cried while flying over Missouri because she wanted to turn around and explain and she just couldn't because she didn't know why. Now she knew, and now it all seemed too late.

But when she heard the song, the mix CD that had arrived with a Vegas postmark and a short note that said "Listen," she did. And it made her smile.

He wasn't mad at her, and he wanted her to be in his life again. He...understood. And knowing that, she picked up the phone and called Vegas, hoping that he really meant what that CD was saying.

  
**Horatio Caine**

_Bye bye baby.  
Don't be long.   
I'll worry about you while you're gone _

_I'll think of you in my dreams.  
You'll never know just what you mean to me..._   
Ivy, "Worry About You"   


She didn't know where he'd gotten the music he listened to, but the more she listened to this song, the more she realized that it was perfectly in tune with their relationship. Miles between them, that was hard enough. Emotional baggage, of that they both had plenty. And the fact that they both worried about each other when they discussed their days, the cases they'd worked...

She stood looking out of the windows and watching the sun rise over the city. It was quiet and beautiful. She'd put the CD on, though, to break the silence. She'd thought it might help her stop thinking. Here she was, on one of those rare occasions when she got to see Horatio for a reason not related to work, and she'd left him sleeping soundly while she'd dressed and stood mesmerized by the sun touching the city.

No, the thinking never stopped. The idea that two people like them, that they could be happy together...that boggled her mind. Made her wonder if there was something she had done right to get a man like him in her life. And it had seemed so sudden, but she had realized with each case they worked together it had built up.

There had been no real moment between them. It really had been a slow building of feelings. One night they had dinner and stayed up talking. Another night he kissed her on the cheek before they parted ways. Next time she took the initiative and kissed him but missed his cheek and hit his lips...and possibly not accidentally, she thought wryly as a smile crept on her face. But that had been it. The next time, and the time after that, there had been a faster build up. And she wasn't unhappy with it, either.

Now it was to the point that she knew where almost everything in his apartment was, and he knew his way around hers with relative ease. That they'd take a weekend off and catch the non-stop flight just to end up spending a night in each other's company. And neither of them ever asked the other to give up what they had in their separate cities; she wouldn't or couldn't give up New York City, and he was the same way about Miami.

But it had never really been an issue. What they had together, it was good.

She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her. He came up behind her and stood close, not quite touching her but there if she wanted to touch him, to feel his hand in hers or her arm around his waist. He had dressed, too, and they stood there watching the sun rise in silence, and she eventually slipped her arm around his waist and his settle on her shoulders. She put her head on his shoulder and sighed a sigh of contentment.

There was no reason to worry about him, or her, or them. Everything would be fine, even if she never told him with words...because he knew.

  
**Don Flack, Jr.**

_This is my December  
This is my time of the year  
This is my December  
This is all so clear_   
Linkin Park, "My December"   


She raised an eyebrow. "You listen to them?" She held the CD behind her back. It had two purposes: to torment Flack and get him to put his arms around me. At that point, when she'd gotten what she wanted, she'd give it back.

But he just grinned at her, went over to his CD player by the window that showed snow falling lightly, and pressed play. The song started and he looked at her, crossing his arms. Damn him and the smirk, the sparkle in his blue eyes...he was going to make her come over there if she wanted anything from him.

"You're evil."

"I know."

"And you love every minute of it." He nodded. "Flack..."

"You can just come over here, you know. It's not that far. Couple of steps, Stell."

She raised an eyebrow, listening to the song. When she'd seen the CD case, she hadn't expected music like this. It was Linkin Park, for crying out loud. "This can't be yours."

"It's not. It's Danny's. He left it here the last time we were watching baseball." He shrugged. "Got curious, popped it in. This one's the only song I really like. Kind of sad, but..."

She pulled the CD case from behind her back and looked at it. Then she set it on the couch and walked over to him and the CD player. He responded by wrapping his arms around her face and smiling at her. The things she'd do to get him to smile at her like that...

She turned the CD player off and then wrapped her arms around his neck. "No sad stuff tonight. Not in the mood for it."

"And just what are you in the mood for?" he asked, grin merging back into the equally familiar smirk.

"This." She kissed him, and things felt right for the first time all day. For the first time since the _last_ time they'd kissed, at some point in the morning. When he kissed her back, _this_ time it felt wonderful...

  
**Mac Taylor**

_Well I never pray  
But tonight I'm on my knees, yeah  
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah  
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now_   
The Verve Pipe, "Bittersweet Symphony"   


The alarm was going off. She reached over and swatted at it, only it wasn't there. She kept forgetting it was on the other side of the bed when she wasn't at home.

The alarm was shut off mid-song, one of those songs she remembered from those one hit wonders countdown. It was a good song, something she'd occasionally listen to in her office. But right now, it was gone, and was replaced by the rustling of sheets until he'd finally turned to look at her and the smirk on her face.

"Morning, Mac," she said.

He grinned a bit and laughed. "Morning, Stella."

"Why was the alarm on so early?" she asked. He reached over and touched her face. She shut her eyes and thought of the conversations they'd had: about them, about her and Frankie, about him and Peyton, about how the only reason they'd really reached out to others was because they considered each other off limits.

One night where they both almost lost each other changed that point of view quickly. He wouldn't leave her, and the first thing she remembered upon waking up was him talking to God saying he wouldn't leave her again if she'd just wake up. The pain in his voice, the fact she had seen him cry, which was something he never did...

But now she opened her eyes and saw the serious look on his face. "What?"

"I was telling you I turned it on so you could get something from your apartment to wear. All your clothes here are dirty."

She laughed. "I keep forgetting to take it to the cleaners."

"Well, if you want to make it, you better get going." He didn't move his hand, though.

"You'd have to let go of my cheek."

"Give me a reason to."

She lifted up and eyebrow, and then leaned in and kissed him. He let go of her cheek and began to pull her closer when she moved backwards, breaking the kiss and sitting up. "Hah. I win, Mac."

He smirked at her. "Yeah, Stella. But in the end, you know I'll get what I want."

"Yeah? And what's that?"

"You," he said simply.

She couldn't let that go. She leaned over and kissed him again, this time letting him pull her closer. When they broke apart, she looked in his eyes. "You've had me for a long time, Mac."

  
**Leroy Jethro Gibbs**

_The change, it had to come  
We knew it all along  
We were liberated from the fold, that's all  
And the world looks just the same  
And history ain't changed  
'Cause the banners, they are flown in the next war_   
The Who, "Won't Get Fooled Again"   


She just looked at him. "Oh, you've _got_ to be kidding me...the boat thing was for real?"

Gibbs looked up from the sanding he was doing. "Yeah, it's real."

"I thought that was just DiNozzo trying to make me think you were crazy."

He laughed and looked at her closely. She was wearing just his shirt, as far as he could tell. What Stella Bonasera of the NYPD would see in him, he wasn't sure, but he knew what he saw in her. The sight before him, the glimpse of all that skin...that was one of the things.

"Stop drooling, Jethro," she said, shaking her head. She headed down the stairs and he only then she noticed she was wearing shorts of some type. They looked like gym shorts...probably were. His shirt looked great on her, better than him, actually.

He could have spent the whole evening staring at her, but he'd gotten the urge to work on his boat. He hadn't wanted to leave her side, but...

She nodded to the CD player on his workstation. "Thought you were supposed to want complete silence when you worked."

"Wasn't in the mood for it tonight."

"But you were in the mood to leave me alone in bed? I'm hurt." She cracked a grin, though, so he knew she wasn't _completely_ serious.

"If you want to get close to me, you can help with the boat."

"Just tell me what to do."

He handed her a scrap of sandpaper. "Don't go against the grain."

"Easy enough." She started to sand the wood and he stepped back, watching her. It was absolutely mesmerizing.

"Stop staring, Gibbs," she said without even turning around. She continued to work as if the realization he was staring at her was no big deal.

"You know if I stopped you'd hate that."

"Then if you're going to stare, make it worthwhile." She let the sandpaper drop and turned around. "Let me have my fair share of staring time."

"Weren't you staring from the top of the stairs?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're too good, you know that?"

"Always nice to be reminded." She continued to laugh, and he realized he could very well be happy with her...and the thought made him wonder just what Stella Bonasera's appeal was.


End file.
